Chapter Seven

I had two choices; back to my room, or back to McKay's lab. I didn't do either one. When I walked on to the balcony, I was surprised to see Ronon leaning over the railing. He almost looked ready to jump, and I felt an unpleasant lurch in the pit of my stomach. "Whatcha' doing, big guy?" I asked, glib.

He turned around, jerked his head to acknowledge me, and turned back to the water. He didn't say anything, just stood, still and silent. Since he didn't tell me to go away, I took his silence as an invitation, and approached him. It was too cold for pajamas and t-shirt, but there was something in Ronon's stance that told me to stay.

"If you don't want me -" I started to say, feeling weird about imposing on the guy.

"Didn't say that," he grunted.

"You don't say a lot," I countered. Ronon had never been one for long conversations, but his normal taciturn self had grown even more so, if that were possible.

He scanned the blue-green waters and shrugged. "Not much to say."

Taking the plunge, I said, "Look, if you've got a problem with me – we can get you on another team…" It was the last thing I'd wanted, but seeing him like this was eating at me like acid on metal. On one side was the hole from Rodney's death, on the other, the burden of how it affected everyone around me. Soon there wouldn't be anything left.

He shifted his gaze to me, puzzled. "I don't have a problem with you."

"Then what's with the avoidance lately?"

I mistakenly leaned against the railing, and my sling-contained arm compressed between the beams and my chest, causing hot pain to flash. I quickly pulled back, as if burned, and then tried to cover it up by shifting to lean with my good side.

He'd noticed, I could see it in his eyes, and I was surprised by the look that I recognized. Guilt. "You couldn't have prevented that moose thing from running me down," I said. Ronon had been across the field, getting ready to the dial the DHD like I'd told him to. Teyla had been the one standing near me, the one that had pointed out that I should've realized there was another nearby.

"I'm not stupid," he retorted, in a way that implied perhaps I was.

I scowled. "Looked like you might be doing something stupid to me," I implied. "You were awfully close to the edge."

I'd seen Ronon in a lot of situations. Angry, defiant, quiet, raging – but now was the first time I'd seen him hurt. It was physical - tangible, and I felt if I reached out into the air between us, I could grab it, hold it. "And you haven't thought of doing anything…stupid?" he asked, his words tilting on an edge.

I thought back to the time right after. I tilted my head, rolling it slightly because of how uncomfortable I suddenly felt. I felt the muscles in my jaw tense, and I cleared my throat. "Maybe…people do…stupid things, sometimes. But, I didn't."

His eyes were empty, lost. I'd never seen him come so undone before, not even when we'd stood amongst the ruins of Sateda. "I've lived too long," he muttered. "I wasn't meant to be alive still. If it wasn't for Ford, I'd be dead now."

I searched his face, trying to figure him out. "What's your point?" I finally asked outright, sick of playing word games.

He sniffed, something I'd seen him do not from a cold, or allergies or anything else. It was something he did when he was upset, angry, pissed. "If I can't do my job, I shouldn't be here."

Confusion covered me, and I didn't like it. "When you haven't you done your job?"

His eyes slid away, returning to the churning water below. I saw the stiffness in his shoulders, the white knuckled grip on the rail. Narrowing my eyes, I tried to think back. He'd already said it wasn't about that animal sending me air born, so what was it? We had only been on a few missions since McKay had died, and the distance had been there from the beginning – from the first mission post Rodney McKay – son of a bitch.

I was stupid, and not stupid as in suicidal stupid, but stupid as in just plain outright stupid. My words in the cell flashed back with painful alacrity. "What took you so long," I murmured, closing my eyes as I realized what I'd unintentionally done. I opened them again, and shook my head, saying, "I didn't mean it like that -"

Ronon pulled a flask from his duster, unscrewed the lid, and tossed back a mouthful of whatever it was. Wiping his mouth, he held it out to me. I looked at it longingly, but remembered the pills Beckett had given me, and the instructions, which included no alcoholic beverages. "No thanks," I replied, frustrated.

He shrugged, recapped it, and tucked it back in his coat. "Doesn't matter," he said, referring to what I'd said earlier.

Of course it mattered. All of it did. What a complete FUBAR my life was becoming, along with everyone else's. All this time I'd thought Ronon's problem was with me, and now I knew it wasn't with me, so much as, because of me. I don't know why I found that so surprising; I would've been doing the same if our positions had been reversed. If it'd been him and McKay in that cell, and I'd seen the corpse and the devastation in the other. Hell, I was a walking reminder to Ronon and…Lorne. Oh, hell. I hadn't even seen the guy since that day. I resolved to find out how he was doing later, when I was…up to talking to him. To telling him I hadn't meant what I'd said.

No, that wasn't true. I had meant it…but not in a way where I wanted them to blame themselves…or did I? Honesty was a real bitch to face, and it made me feel a little sick when I realized that I had wanted them to hurt back then. I'd said those words because that's how I'd felt. What the fuck had taken them so long? I'd never gotten an answer.

I was surprised at the anger that was there again, and when I looked up, wished I had never come out here, because Ronon was watching me, and I knew he knew. His face twisted, and he asked, "Sure you don't want me to be…stupid?"

"Knock it off," I snarled. "I was wrong, okay? I was mad, hurt, pissed – that's all. We say things we don't mean. It happens, and damn it, Ronon, if you go and do something stupid, I'll kill you myself."

We'd all screwed up on that mission. Made rookie mistakes by allowing ourselves to be split up when the Wraith attacked. Even Teyla had been fooled. The difference between Teyla and the rest of us was that she had her peace, and we didn't. She'd long ago learned to deal with life and death. I'd realized that about her in our first year. She cared, she resisted, she fought – but all with a calm acceptance that what happened, happened.

"You're not to blame," I pointed out, trying to offer him absolution. "I was wrong."

He shook his head, not much, just enough to let me know that he thought I was full of shit. "Tell you what," he said, looking at me. "I'll stop blaming myself when you stop." I read the hopelessness in his eyes. He knew what I'd say. I turned away from him, hating everything. God, this sucked. For reasons unknown to him – reasons I wasn't willing to confess, I'd never stop blaming myself. I regarded him with regret, bucket loads of regret. "Looks like we'll be blaming ourselves for a long time," I replied, matching his hopelessness.

Ronon's mouth twitched into an almost smile, and he turned back to the water. "Guess so," he agreed.

At least Ronon worked at a level I could understand. "Just so long as neither one of us does something…stupid," I agreed. "You won't, right?" I shivered, and it made my arm ache in the splint. I turned and looked longingly at the door, but I wasn't ready to leave yet. I needed to know that Ronon wasn't going to throw himself over the edge when I left, or jump into a culling beam, or anything else equally…stupid.

"You shouldn't be out here," Ronon said, reading my body language. "Doc would be pissed if he knew."

"Yeah," I agreed, not moving. He hadn't answered my question, and with a sick feeling in my gut, I realized he wasn't going to.